Body, Mind, and Soul
by MegaNerdAlert
Summary: Diana, the body; Hermione, the mind; Minerva, the soul. This is their story. Brace yourself. Warning: Character death.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, this fic will have 12 chapters. The chapters will be short so I expect this to get uploaded pretty quickly. I'm already done with the rough draft of the next two chapters. WARNING: Character death.**

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**Body**

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Diana McGonagall was startled at the chaos when she arrived at St. Mungo's for the third shift rotation. Mediwizards and witches were rushing to and fro, appearing to be preparing for a mass onslaught of injured. "What the bloody hell is going on?" she asked a passing nurse.

"Hogwarts is under seige," the plump, middle-aged woman replied. "We are expecting the casualties to begin arriving within the hour.

Hogwarts. Diana raised an eyebrow at the thought of her aunt, the Deputy Headmistress of the esteemed wizarding school, being in the path of such danger. Voldemort had been gunning for the McGonagall clan since his first rise, exterminating all but Diana and Minerva before he was stopped by Harry Potter that night in Godrics Hallow. When Voldemort had risen again, three years ago now, her aunt had urged her to lay low, and not join the Order even if she did support the cause. As the right hand of Albus Dumbedore, Minerva had little choice but to be an active part of the war, but Diana had no such affiliation.

Why it really mattered if Diana lived through the war, she didn't know. Like her aunt, the dark haired Scottish witch had never married or had children. The McGonagall clan was all but gone now, leaving no heirs to carry on the family legacy. Diana and Minerva were the last members of the last family to be descended from Godric Gryffindor, and through him, descended from Merlin himself. Being heirs to such a bloodline came with many secrets - magics unknown to anyone else - and she and Minerva had both long since agreed to take those secrets to the grave.

Diana had gotten into counseling after having gone to a councilor herself, after the death of her father, Robert. Her mother and brother had been killed before that, which had been hard enough to get through, but losing her father had cut deeply. While Minerva was her aunt by blood, they rarely interacted - Minerva was too bloody dedicated to Hogwarts to give a damn - and so losing her father had felt like losing all that was left of her family. She was alone.

That said, her career choice had suited her well, helping others get through the horrors of war and loss in the same way her own councilor had helped her decades before. Close or not, Diana hoped that Minerva would be alright. Family was family, after all.

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**Mind**

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Spells were flying around it a way that could not possibly be safe, though war wasn't meant to be safe, Hermione Granger mused to herself. After a year on the run from Voldemort, and six years of getting in and out of trouble with Harry and Ron, the brains of the Golden Trio was well acquainted with danger.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted. "Watch out!"

Brown eyes scanned around her, quickly finding the Death Eater who was poised to cast a spell at her. She was already holding a shield charm up in front of a group of younger students who had snuck back into the castle, so she quickly shifted her body, allowing the spell to whiz past her harmlessly.

"Oh my," a strained, Scottish voice said from a few feet behind her.

Hermione whirled around as soon as she'd managed to cast a nonverbal stunning spell, removing the threat of the Death Eater who had just sent the curse toward her. She nodded to Harry and Ron, who were busily helping the group of fourth years get to safety, before turning to face the voice. "Oh bloody hell," she whispered, watching Minerva McGonagall collapse onto the ground, holding a hand over her side. "Professor!"

The older witch smiled softly at Hermione. "Good to see you, Miss Granger."

"You too," Hermione replied, kneeling beside her former teacher, not liking the paleness in the elder woman's face. "How bad is it?" she asked, nodding to the wound Minerva was still pressing her hand against.

"Pretty bad," Minerva coughed.

Hermione's eyes widened as she saw blood beginning to trickle out of the older witch's lip. _No_, she thought. _No, no, no!_

"Rapier hex. Clean through both lungs. Nice...bloody... shot," she said through more bouts of coughing.

The younger woman said nothing. Right now, for her, the world had stopped moving. She knew beyond any doubt that Minerva was dying. There was nothing that could be done. In a matter of moments she would drown in her own blood. This would be a great loss to the Wizarding world, but for Hermione personally, it was devastating. A year of convincing herself to tell Minerva the truth would be all in vain, as the woman she was in love with would not live to hear it. "You can't die…" she whimpered, scooting close and lifting Minerva's torso onto her lap. "You can't."

"Don't really see…a way out of it..at...this...point."

More coughing. More blood. Hermione's tears were flowing freely now as she caressed the older woman's face. "It should have been me," she sobbed. "That hex was meant for me."

"Glad it...was me...instead," Minerva muttered, eyes fluttering. "Hermione…"

"Minerva, no!" Hermione screamed, grabbing her teacher's face, as the older witch's eyes closed. "Wake up!"

Silence followed. Minerva did not open her eyes back up, but rather she let out her final, ragged breath. The Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts was dead.

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**Soul**

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Minerva woke to an eerie silence. _The battle must be over_, she thought. _I wonder how long I was out._

She moved to stand, and was surprised at the lack of pain. The last thing she remembered was getting hit by a rapier hex, and Hermione being there beside her. Minerva smiled softly at the thought of Hermione Granger, the young woman who despite her best efforts not to, she had fallen in love with.

"Professor McGonagall?" a familiar voice called.

"Sir Nicolas," she greeted, looking ahead to see the Gryffindor Ghost floating toward her. "How are you?"

Nearly-Headless-Nick stared incredulously at her."I'm in a bit of shock, presently," he said. "Seeing you...like that."

"Like what?" she asked, cocking her head sideways in confusion.

"Transparent," he replied. "Never thought you'd be the type to want this existence."

"Excuse me?"

A look of dawning realization came over Sir Nicolas. "Ah, you've only just awoken then."

"A moment ago," Minerva nodded. "I was just getting my bearings before heading off to see what's happened."

"What's happened is you've...," the floating figure huffed, and paused before pointing his finger at something behind her. "Look, Professor."

Minerva turned, and looked at where the Gryffindor Ghost was pointing. There, on the ground, pale and blood soaked, was… "Bloody hell."

"You, my dear Professor, are a ghost," her companion stated. "Didn't you realize?"

"No," she mumbled, staring at the sight of her body laying still on the ground. Her eyes were closed, and dried blood around her lips gave the appearance of smudged lipstick.

"Well it's supposed to be a choice you make," Sir Nicolas said, frowning. "I know Professor Binns likes to tell folks that he didn't decide to be a ghost, that he just got up one day and left his body behind when going off to teach, but that's just a story. He died, and he chose what followed. Every ghost I know has made a conscious choice."

"Well I did not," Minerva stated firmly. "I would never have chosen this. Never."

"I thought not," he said. "It is quite odd. I'd suggest going to talk to Albus about it."

"Is Severus still the Headmaster?" Minerva asked, unsure how she could get into the Head's office to talk to Albus without being stopped. "I haven't got the password."

"No, he's dead," Nicolas conveyed. "That said, like it or not, you are a ghost, and you don't need a bloody password to get into the Head's office. Besides, the Headship should be yours now, with Dumbledore and Snape both dead. Granted, I've never heard of the Headship passing to someone dead before...perhaps the Head is Flitwick, then."

"Filius will do a fine job," Minerva smiled. "I could think of no one better to get this school back in order."

"Other than yourself?"

"My time and energy is officially situated how to fix this mess I've gotten into," Minerva snapped. "I will not spend eternity as a ghost, especially when I don't know how I managed to get myself this way in the first bloody place."

"Well, if you do find a way to off a ghost, do let me know before you do it to yourself," Sir Nicolas snapped. "I can think of a few dozen other ghosts who would love to finally rest in peace."

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**Please don't kill me. Review, instead! **


	2. Chapter 2

**And part two...**

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**Body**

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"Diana?"

Green eyes looked up from her paperwork to see her boss, Sue Loftin, standing in the doorway looking decidedly uncomfortable. "Yes?" she asked.

"I'm afraid I have some...unfortunate news," Sue stated in little more than a whisper.

"Don't even tell me the board isn't going to approve my budget plans for…" Diana started.

"Minerva McGonagall was killed during the battle at Hogwarts," Sue interrupted.

Silence followed for a moment while Diana processed the information. _Damnit,_ she thought. "Thank you for telling me, Sue. Was there anything else?"

"Anything...else?" Sue sputtered. "Diana, didn't you hear me? Your aunt, you know, your last living relative, is dead! This is not some bloody holiday she's gone on! It is a permanent loss to the wizarding world, much less to the only family member she had…"

"I heard you," Diana stated, cold edge to her tone. "Now if there is nothing else, get out of my office."

The other woman looked flabbergasted at the lack of emotion that the St. Mungo's councilor was showing. "You are entitled to a leave of absence should you wish for time to mourn and set your aunt's affairs in order. Let me know if you should need it," she finally said. "Good day, Diana."

After she had turned and left, Diana stood and walked to her door. She closed it quietly, then returned to her desk and resumed working on the report she'd be doing before Sue came with the news. Tears were cascading down her cheeks as she tried to refocus on the task at hand. "Tell da I miss him," she whispered to the ceiling.

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**Mind**

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Hermione Granger focused on moving her feet in even steps. The last three days had been inner hell. She hadn't spoken a word since Minerva McGonagall had died in her arms. She hadn't cried since wiping away the evidence of her anguish when Ron had pulled her away from their Transfiguration Professor's cold body. Harry was now pulling her down the white halls of St. Mungo's. He'd been concerned when she wouldn't speak, but she thought that concern had probably doubled when she hadn't objected to being escorted to the Wizarding Hospital. As much as she felt bad for causing him to worry, there was nothing she could do about it.

She felt numb. Numb, and overcome with guilt for being the reason that the woman she loved was dead. In Minerva's final moments, she hadn't even been able to bring herself to say those three precious words, and the regret of that lack of courage coursing through her like a raging blizzard, leaving her cold and empty. She couldn't eat. She could sleep. She couldn't utter a single word, and even nods yes or no were limited. Mostly she just stared outward, but stayed uncontrollably drawn to the memory of Minerva's perfect, emerald green eyes, wide eyed in shock as her lungs began filling with blood.

"Hermione Granger, here to see Madam Wildeson," she heard Harry say to the lady at the desk.

Words which Hermione didn't bother to listen to were exchanged in front of her, and a minute later, she felt Harry pulling her toward the seats in the waiting room. A bit more time passed - she wasn't sure how much - and Harry was once again tugging her arm. He guided her back a hallway, and into a small exam room.

For another little while, Hermione half listened as Harry spoke to her, rambling about how he could help her if she'd just tell him what was wrong. Madam Pomfrey had suspected a dark curse had stolen her voice, but Harry, dear, sweet Harry, knew her better, and could tell by the fact that she was not eating or sleeping that something was very, very wrong, and not the sort of wrong caused by a spell. At least, not in the conventional way.

"There's nothing medically wrong, Mr. Potter," a deep, female voice said, startling Hermione.

Oh. Madam Wildeson. Hermione hadn't noticed when she'd entered the room, nor had she been aware of the mediwitch casting diagnostic spells on her.

"I recommend committing her," Madam Wildeson urged. "Normally, such an action would require a family member's consent, but as I understand it…"

"Her parents are missing," Harry said. "I'm all she's got."

"Which is why I am agreeing to allow you to make the decision, Mr. Potter," the mediwitch nodded. "As she is not in her right mind, and therefore not qualified to decide for herself."

"How long?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Until she can speak for herself and we are certain she will do what it takes to take care of herself physically," Madam Wildeson replied. "We will do what we can to expedite that process, but it could very well be weeks, or even months. We don't know what caused her to shut down like this, so it's hard to really estimate."

"I understand."

"We have a wonderful councilor here on staff," Madam Wildeson continued. "Diana McGonagall. I think that Miss Granger would benefit from speaking with her...or at least for now, from Madam McGonagall speaking _to_ her."

Hermione tapped Harry on the shoulder, and looked intently at him, question dancing in her eyes.

The dark haired man sighed. "I think she wants to know if Madam McGonagall is of any relation to Professor McGonagall."

Madam Wildeson nodded. "Diana is her niece...was...I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. I'm still adapting to a world without Minerva McGonagall in it."

As Hermione curled up on the chair and hid her face behind her knees, Harry's broken voice agreed. "I think we all are, ma'am."

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**Soul**

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Minerva floated - bloody hell, she was floating! - down the familiar halls of Hogwarts, intent on seeking out a conversation with Albus. After her chat with Sir Nicolas, she had elected not to let anyone know she was a ghost, less they try to talk her out of her plan to un-ghost herself and die properly. She had briefly considered reaching out to Hermione, but decided that it would only cause the beautiful young woman more grief. There was nothing to be said, anyway. Minerva knew she meant nothing more to Hermione than any other teacher. A confession of love, from a ghost of all things, would be decidedly unwelcome.

It was dark, but she had no problem seeing the way. Actually, she found she could see better in the dark than she could in the light, now that she was dead. Her night vision gained from her animagus form had been good, but ghost night vision was absolutely incredible. So far as final life experiences were concerned, this one wasn't half bad. That said, she didn't want it to go on too long, so she earnestly pressed on.

Arriving at the door to the Head's office, Minerva took a deep breath - or at least, a ghost's version of a breath - and floated right into, and then through the door. Grinning at her success, she took a moment to thank Merlin that the likes of James Potter and Sirus Black did not chose to come back as ghosts; or, for that matter, Fred Weasley, whom she had learned had died in the same battle she had. Any of those pranksters would make all future Heads of Hogwarts seriously reconsider their career moves.

"Albus?" she whispered, gliding toward where she knew her dear friend's portrait was hanging on the wall.

"Minerva?" came a soft reply. "Oh my, Minerva!"

"See the sort of trouble I get into without you here, you old coot," she teased, amused at his shocked expression.

"Are you dead?" Albus inquired.

"Apparently," Minerva replied dryly. "Though not dead enough. I spoke with Sir Nicolas and he informed me that it is a choice to become a ghost, or not, and I most certainly did not choose this. Any ideas on how I could have become a ghost without intending on it?"

Albus frowned. "Ghosts are trapped souls. If you did not intend on trapping your own soul, then the only logical conclusion is that your soul was split without your knowledge, and like Voldemort with the horcruxes, you cannot fully die if a part of your soul is anchored in the world of the living."

"So...I accedentily created a horcrux?" Minerva asked, aghast at the notion.

"Or someone stole a bit of your soul and erased the memory of the event," her friend suggested.

"Just bloody great," the spectral remains of Professor McGonagall said snidly. "Perhaps I should set Mr. Potter on the task of finding the missing bit of my soul."

"I think Harry has earned a break," Albus said kindly. "We'll get this sorted."

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**Please Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**And...chapter the third one! **

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**Body**

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The Battle of Hogwarts had flooded Diana's ward with new patients. The fact that so many victims from the last war still remained in her care made Diana consider asking the board to let her steal some of the research division's space to make more room for her patients. If the first war was any indication, many of those who'd arrived in the last week would never leave.

Speaking of new patients…

Diana looked at her clipboard and frowned at the name next up on her list. Hermione Granger. Gods, Minerva had gone on and on and on about this girl. Her intellectual prowess, mostly, but over the last three years that points of what was great about the golden girl of Hogwarts had varied someone. Diana suspected her aunt may have even had a crush on her star pupil. Weird.

The chart told her that Hermione Granger had been admitted by her friend Harry Potter, because she had not spoken for three days...or rather, for ten days, if one was counting the seven she'd been here already, and still not a peep, according to the staff. Miss Granger must have been admitted right after she'd taken off for the week; a week of leave which Sue had come back after initially offering it and insisted upon. She knew she ought to have taken the time to get her aunt's affairs in order, but she'd decided to just go on a bloody vacation instead. New Zealand had been mostly untouched by the war.

That said, she was back now, and had a week's worth of catching up. She had made it through _Aster, Benson, Devlin, Frankford, _and _Giles_ so far this morning. Now she was up to _Granger._ A quick check in at the nurses' station told her that physically, Miss Granger was fine; the model of good health, sans some minor spinal fractures that Diana could easily recognize as being caused by the _Cruciatus Curse._ Gods, she'd seen that type of injury hundreds of times in her thirty year tenure at St. Mungo's.

Armed with enough information to start a conversation with, Diana made her way to the room that Miss Granger had been assigned. She knocked twice, and then entered, not expecting a vocalized invite. Sitting on the perfectly made bed with her nose in a book was her patient. Diana took a moment to appreciate what her aunt might have seen in the young woman; Hermione was certainly a very attractive young woman, however damaged emotionally she might be.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," she stated, clipped tone betraying her Scottish heritage. "I'm Diana McGonagall. I'm the on staff councilor here at St. Mungo's. I was thinking perhaps we could chat for a while."

She'd had Miss Granger's attention from the moment she said her name, and that was no surprise. Diana had been counting on it, actually. She was hoping the fact that she was directly linked to someone who this young woman knew and respected would help begin a dialogue. She was hoping to get some sort of a greeting today, perhaps even something as simple as '_Hello'_. Diana was not expecting what she actually got.

"You have her eyes," Hermione said quietly.

And then a few seconds later, much to Diana's dismay and utter confusion, Hermione threw her book across the room and curled up in a fetal position, sobbing.

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**Mind**

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Hermione wasn't sure if Councilor McGonagall being on her case was a good thing or not. Minerva's niece was like her in so many ways; same dark hair, same green eyes, some high cheekbones and sharp, Scottish features. Personality wise, they were both stern and commanding, though Diana seemed to have a softer side as well. Hermione had always suspected the same of Minerva, but the older McGonagall hadn't lived for Hermione to get to know better. Even if Minerva had never been interested in her romantically, she had hoped to get to know the Professor better. Now, that would never happen.

Hermione had spoken briefly to Diana, though she'd avoided the question regarding how she was not speaking to anyone else. Diana had expressed that she thought her being connected with the former Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, whom Hermione had _obviously been fond of_, had been why the seemingly mute witch had chosen to speak to her. _Fond_, Hermione scoffed internally. U_nderstatement of the bloody year._

Diana has been right about the connection being the reason she'd spoken to the St. Mungo's councilor. Much like the shock of Minerva's death had stilled her voice, the shock of seeing identical green eyes staring intently into her own had begun to loosen her tongue. However, that was only one step of many that Hermione knew needed to happen. She still wasn't eating, and still hardly slept. In the last two weeks she'd lost her healthy, curvy figure, leaving in its place something that looked frail and weak.

Skin and bones, she'd heard the nurses call it. Last night they had sedated her and spelled a bit of food into her stomach. While Hermione had slept for a solid eight hours, she could hardly consider it rest. Her dreams had been nightmare after nightmare, watching Minerva die again and again, and when she had woken, the first thing she'd done was throw up what little food they'd forced into her.

Hermione knew what she needed to do. She knew she needed to eat, to sleep, to speak; but she found it difficult to put any effort into recovering, while she knew it only meant she'd have to step back into a world without Minerva McGonagall in it. At this rate, she wasn't sure she'd live long enough to crave the light of day again.

"You have to focus on reasons to live, Miss Granger," Diana had told her this morning.

'_My reason to live is dead,'_ Hermione had thought, unsure if she trusted the councilor enough to tell her how much she'd loved the woman's aunt.

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**Soul**

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If there was one thing that Minerva wished she'd done more while alive, it was to spend time in the library. From the day she's arrived at Hogwarts at the age of eleven, she'd known that it would take years to comb through all the tomes in this wonderful room, and then, she'd wished she had the time to spent. Years later, when she returned as a Professor, somewhere in the back of her mind she reminded herself that summers were to do with as she pleased, and one summer she ought to dedicate the absence of the students to truly exploring the Hogwarts Library's restricted section. She never had.

Now that she was dead, she found herself surrounded by rare and dangerous texts out of necessity rather than pleasure, though given that there was really no rush to un-ghost herself, she had taken her good ol' time in the hunt for answers. These last weeks may have been some of the best of her life, which was a bit sad considering that she was, in fact, dead. She never had taken time for herself in life. It was always family, and then duty, that came before her own desires. If she, and her niece Diana for that matter, had just stopped focusing on how much it hurt to lose the ones you love, perhaps one or both of them may have found someone to share the future with. Minerva no longer had a future to spend, not really. She did hope Diana realized what she had - that tomorrow may not come.

"Bloody fucking hell!" a voice said from up ahead of where she was floating. "Professor McGonagall?!"

"Mind your language, Mr. Potter," she replied, coming toward her former student. She understood Harry's shock, but still, this was Hogwarts and there were rules.

"But Professor!" Harry said, gaping at her. "You - you're - you're a ghost!"

"I am aware of that," she snapped. "And I'd thank you not to let anyone else know, as I am on a search to figure out how to _not_ be a ghost."

"And what?" Harry demanded. "Die?"

"I am already dead, Mr. Potter," she said softly. "Nothing can change that."

"Don't you care what you leaving would mean to her?"

"To whom?" Minerva inquired, a bit confused at this point why Harry was still ranting at her. Shock was over. Move on.

"Hermione? You know, my best friend? The one wasting away in St. Mungo's right now because of you?" Harry accused.

"Whatever are you talking about?" Minerva asked, frowning. "What's wrong with Miss Granger?"

"She's in love with you," Harry whispered. "And you died in her arms. She won't eat. She hardly sleeps, even when they sedate her. She won't talk to any of us, though that councilor says she did speak briefly to her."

"She...what?" the ghost of a Professor asked, mouth falling slack and heart sinking. O_h, gods… Hermione, why didn't you tell me?_

"She loves you. She loves you so bloody much it's going to kill her," Harry replied in a frustrated tone. "I don't know what to do!"

"I can't change that I've died," she muttered to the young man in front of her, "and I doubt that her seeing me would make things any better. She just needs time...to grieve."

"Yeah. That's what Councilor McGonagall said."

"Councilor McGon…" Minerva gaped. "Diana's on Hermione's case?"

"Uhuh," Harry replied with a smile smile. "Your niece, right?"

The former Professor nodded. "My elder brother's girl."

"Professor McGonagall?" Harry asked, looking at her curiously.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Do you….I mean could you have...that is to say…"

"Just spit it out, Mr. Potter," Minerva said, thinking about how she had agreed to go talk to Albus, and was now running late.

"Did you love her too?" the young man finally asked in a rush, red cheeked in embarrassment.

Minerva thought for a moment. It wasn't a question of what her honest to God answer was, but rather a question of if she should tell the object of her affection's best friend or not. Eventually, she decided that she trusted Harry Potter to tell Hermione if and when the beautiful young woman needed to hear it. "Oh yes," she whispered. "I love her with everything I am."

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**Please review! Next chapter, Hermione finds out Minerva is a ghost. **


	4. Chapter 4

**I think I may be back. Was in a bit of a hump with my writing for a while there, but I'm typing like crazy the last couple of days. WOOT! Enjoy some angst, if that is your cup of tea. :P**

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**Body**

Diana had never taken kindly to being ordered to do something for political reasons. Alas, per Sue's orders, she'd assigned all of her other cases to other councilors, for the time being, so that she could focus entirely on Hermione Granger; best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived-Again. Verbally, she'd thrown a bit of a fit at the notion, but really, she didn't mind. Hermione was an interesting case - the type a councilor is lucky to meet once in a career.

She'd already checked on Hermione this morning, though the girl had not spoken at all. It was her lunch break now, and he was headed to meet the solicitor of her aunt's will to start the process of getting Minerva's affairs settled.

"Good afternoon, Madam McGonagall," a short, bald man greeted in a gruff voice.

"Mr. Bowdeen," Diana replied.

The two sat down at a table in the small law office, and the man set right to work. "Minerva left in my care a collection of journals, which she instructed were to be the first thing you received upon her death. Her will stated several benefactors, including you, of course."

"Who else?" Diana wanted to know.

"There's a sum of money put aside for Arthur and Molly Weasley," Mr. Bowdeen began. "As well as a school fund for a Mister Theodore Lupin. All of her books go to a Miss Hermione Granger…"

"Stop there," Diana said. "What did she say about Granger in her will, exactly?"

Mr. Bowdeen shuffled through a pile of parchment, grunting when he found the correct one. "_To Miss Hermione Granger, I bestow my collection of books; the entirety of the McGonagall Library, including those volumes being loaned to the Hogwarts' Library upon the time of my death. May she find respite from grief in those pages, as her presence in my life gave me the same relief."_

"Bloody hell," Diana muttered. "Maybe there was more that a crush..."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing, do go on, sir," she said quickly, gesturing for him to continue.

With a curt not, he did just that. He listed the remaining benefactors, most of which Diana had expected to make it into her will, and some that had surprised her. A few who had been listed, Severus Snape for example, had also died in the final days of the war, which meant that it was up to Diana to decide how those bestowments were reassigned. It would be a lot of work, which she did not have time for today, and so she collected the box full of Minerva's journals, but Mr. Bowdeen a good day, and headed back to St. Mungo's.

She'd look at those journals later. It was probable that they would help her figure out for sure just what her aunt had felt for Hermione Granger.

* * *

**Mind**

"Hey 'Mione," Harry said, entering her small room with a smile.

Hermione looked up from her book at her long time friend, nodded in greeting, and set her book down. She wanted to talk to him, really, she did. But she couldn't. He wouldn't understand. No one would. The brown eyed witch knew that any answer she could give at this point would lead to more questions; questions she was not prepared to answer. The scene played out in her head daily; Diana would ask why she stopped speaking, she would say it was the shock of Minerva dying in her arms. Diana would then ask why it was so shocking, that others had died too, so what was so special about Minerva. Hermione would tell the councilor about how the curse that killed her aunt had been meant for her. Diana would be upset, but try to rationalize away any anger she felt, saying Hermione couldn't have known that moving out of the way would have cost Minerva her life.

No, she couldn't have that conversation. She couldn't stand the idea of Diana or anyone else telling her it was okay that she'd survived; because it wasn't okay. A world without Minerva would never be okay.

"How are you feeling today?" Harry asked.

Hermione shrugged, same as she did anytime Harry asked her that question. She knew he was frustrated with her, and that he was only concerned, but no matter how she cared for him, it changed nothing.

"Do you feel up to some news?" Harry inquired, sitting on the chair Diana usually occupied during their sessions.

Again, Hermione just shrugged. Maybe Harry had decided to ask Ginny to marry him or something. Maybe Ron had himself a new girlfriend. It couldn't hurt to listen, she supposed.

"So, I was up at Hogwarts yesterday, just looking around," Harry started. "I ended up in the Library, in the Restricted Section...figured if I'm not a student anymore, I can't get in trouble for being in there, ya know?"

That sentiment earned Harry a small smile. It wasn't much, but it was all Hermione felt she could offer.

"Anyhow, so I'm looking around, turned a corner, and then right in front of me was a ghost," Harry continued. "A new ghost."

Hermione's heart began beating more rapidly, but she forced herself not to react.

"It was McGonagall," Harry finished softly, meeting her gaze.

Hermione leapt forward, grabbed Harry's face and forced him to look her in the eyes. She stared into his green eyes intently, searching for a lie, any ounce of humor, any possible tell to debate the validity of what he'd just said. She found nothing. Harry kept looking at her, and after a moment, he reached up to place his hands on each of her shoulders. At that, she pulled away, crawled off the bed, and rushed toward one corner of the room, body slamming into the wall with a blood curdling scream.

"Hermione!" Harry yelped, rushing forward, trying to stop her from beating her head into the wall.

She hit her head again and again, praying to be unconscious, or better yet, to just die. Minerva couldn't be a ghost. She couldn't. There was no hope for a life for Hermione if the woman she loved existed where she could be seen, heard, but never touched. The memory of the Tale of Three Brothers flooded Hermione's mind, thinking most specifically of the brother with the Resurrection Stone, and how the woman he loved had been brough back as a ghost, and not being able to touch her had driven the brother to suicide.

"NO!" Hermione screamed. "NO STONE! I DIDN'T DO IT!"

'Mione, calm down!" Harry pleaded, pulling her away from the wall and holding her tightly against his body as she fought him.

"What the hell happened, Potter?!"

Hermione stilled for just a moment, head snapping in the direction of Diana McGonagall's voice, but one look into eyes identical to Minerva's, and she was screaming again. "STOP!"

"Nurse! I need a sedative!" Diana hollered out the door. "Potter, help me get her on the bed!"

Hermione twisted, pulled, kicked, and screamed, but Diana and Harry's joint efforts overwhelmed her weak body. Not eating had taken most of her strength.

A nurse rushed in, carrying a potion which she quickly spelled directly into Hermione's stomach. The effect began to take hold quickly. Hermione's body stilled, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

"What the bloody hell did you say to her?" she heard Diana ask Harry, venom dripping from her voice.

"I can't…" Harry sputtered. "I can't...tell you."

Hermione imagined that Diana would try and force the answer out of Harry, but that was the last of the conversation she heard before the sedation completely kicked in.

* * *

**Soul**

Minerva had never felt anything like it. She'd been reading, and all of the sudden she was overwhelmed by pain. Had she still had a body, she'd have thought that she was being torn limb for limb. Her cry had gone unheard, for the castle was nearly empty now, for which she was grateful. Even as a ghost, Minerva's pride did not have a desire to be seen curled up in the fetal position, screaming like an infant fresh from the womb.

The pain only lasted about two minutes - though she was certain it was the longest two minutes of her life or death - and as soon as it passed, only a dull ache centered in her chest remained as evidence. As soon as her breathing steadied, she made for the Head's office, intent on speaking with Albus about what had just happened. One of the perks of being a ghost was that you didn't have to feel pain, so what had just happened must be related to why she was a ghost at all.

The former Transfiguration Professor took the shortest route possible to the Headmaster's office, which meant going through several walls, two floors and one stone Gargoyle. "Albus," she greeted curtly.

"Minerva, hello," the lemon-drop loving portrait greeted. "What's new?"

"Pain!" Minerva screeched at him. "I'm a bloody ghost but I just felt pain!"

Albus frowned. "What did you do?"

"Nothing at all," the spectral witch replied. "I was in the Library, in the restricted section…"

"Doesn't the tale always start like that?" Albus mused.

"And suddenly I felt like I was being magically torn apart," Minerva finished with a glare toward her old friend. "If I wasn't already, that much pain might have killed me."

"Well, that _is_ odd," the former Headmaster stated. "Supports the accidental horcrux theory, though. If someone had tried, but failed to destroy the detached bit of your soul, in theory it would have caused you pain. Some witnesses claim that at the time Harry destroyed one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, Voldemort himself behaved as if he was in great pain. Harry told me that when the diadem was thrown into Findyfire, destroying that horcrux, he was overcome by pain - being that a part of Voldemort's soul was also in him at the time."

"Just bloody great," Minerva muttered. "Now what do I do?"

"Well, the way I see it, you have three options. This evidence suggests that someone is trying to destroy the missing part of your soul. You can simple let them, and then you'd cease to be a ghost whenever they'd been successful. Your second option is to go hunting for the missing part of your soul, and destroy it yourself, with the same end result but it would probably be considerably less painful, as we actually know what we're doing when it comes to destroying Horcruxes, or third, you seek it, and then keep it hidden, continuing on as a ghost for as long as you wish, but knowing you have the power to end your existence when you choose."

"But that is the tether holding me to this world, correct?" Minerva asked.

"I believe so, though Merlin knows I could be wrong," Albus replied seriously.

"What other explanation could there be?"

"I don't know, though I continue to put thought into it," Albus said with a small smile.

* * *

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